Kitabı oku: «The Nurse's Christmas Wish»

CONTENTS

Cover

Back Cover Text

Title Page

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

Extract

Copyright

PROLOGUE

‘YOU’RE going to love me. I’ve solved all your problems.’

‘I don’t have any problems.’ He had hundreds of problems. Mac Sullivan tucked the phone under his ear and carried on sifting through the pile of post he’d scooped from the mat just before the phone had rung. He’d only been at the hospital for two days and yet the door would barely open. Where the hell had it all come from? He turned his attention to the phone call. ‘And if this is the point where you tell me you’ve fixed me up with another blind date then I ought to warn you that I’m leaving the country. If you weren’t my brother I’d have knocked your teeth down your throat before now.’

‘Wouldn’t be the first time,’ Josh said easily, ‘but in this case it would be the wrong move. It’s not a blind date. But I have chosen you a great Christmas present.’

Mac binned the post without opening it and strolled through to the kitchen, the phone still tucked under his ear. He winced at the mess. The remains of a takeaway lay dried up and congealing in foil containers and unwashed dishes were stacked on every available surface.

‘I don’t need a Christmas present, I need a housekeeper,’ he muttered, glancing towards the overflowing bin with something close to desperation. ‘Or a brother who clears up after himself. Why doesn’t someone invent a bin that empties itself?’

‘Last time I looked, ours was emptying itself,’ Josh said mildly, ‘mostly over the kitchen floor. And housekeepers always leave because they fall in love with you. Personally I find you a moody, sarcastic bastard but for some inexplicable reason women seem to find that irresistible. You need to smile more and cut out the brooding, Heathcliffe look and maybe they could concentrate on looking after the house.’

Choosing to ignore his brother’s remarks, Mac flicked on the kettle and hunted in vain for a clean mug. ‘I’m putting in another advert.’

‘It’s Christmas in less than two weeks,’ Josh reminded him. ‘Everyone is shopping and cooking and decorating the house with lights. They don’t want to come and clear up our mess. No, in the short term we’re in trouble. But in the long term, you need to get married again. That would solve everything.’

Married?

Mac closed his eyes and the breath hissed through his teeth. ‘I don’t think so.

He was better off alone.

There was a brief silence on the other end of the phone. ‘You can’t lock yourself away for ever,’ Josh said softly. ‘It’s time to move on.’

‘I have moved on.’

‘So why are you living in that massive house on your own?’

Because he liked being on his own.

Mac opened his eyes and glanced at the mess. ‘Last time I looked, you were living in it with me. And I wish you’d learn to clear up after yourself. This place is a pit.’

‘You’ll miss me when my boathouse is finished,’ Josh said cheerfully, and Mac gave a ghost of a smile as he took a last glance around the kitchen.

‘Will I?’ He strode out of the kitchen and closed the door firmly behind him. The mess depressed him and he was too tired to tackle it. ‘How are things there? Did you transfer the aorta guy to Theatre?’

‘Don’t change the subject. We were talking about you getting married again.’

‘You were talking about that, not me,’ Mac said irritably. Marriage definitely wasn’t on his agenda. ‘Did you get him to Theatre before it ruptured?’

Josh sighed. ‘Yes, but you need to stop thinking about work. You need to ease off and develop different areas of your life. Achieve some balance.’

Mac frowned into the phone. ‘Balance? Have you been reading women’s magazines? And were you working in the A and E department with me last night or not? Did you happen to notice any drunk, abusive patients, brainless drivers and idiots who can’t walk along an icy pavement without breaking a limb? Because they were all out in force. I’m knackered and I need my bed. I don’t have time for balance and I don’t have time for your psychobabble.’

‘I’m not giving you psychobabble, I’m telling you where you’re going wrong with your life.’

‘That’s why you called?’ Mac eyed the mud on the hall floor and exhaled slowly. He was never in the house. How did it get so dirty? ‘To tell me where I’m going wrong with my life? Thanks.’

‘Actually, I called to arrange delivery of your Christmas present. I’ve gone to a lot of effort. It’s important that you’re in.’

Mac checked his reflection in the hall mirror and grimaced. He looked like a bandit. He needed a shave and a sleep, although possibly not in that order. ‘We never bother with Christmas presents.’

It was just one more thing to think about.

‘Well, this year, we’re bothering. Or, at least, I am.’

Mac sighed and made a mental note to buy something useless for his brother. ‘All right, if you want to play Santa, we’ll play Santa. But I hope my stocking is full of bottles.’

‘Alcohol isn’t the answer.’

‘Surely that depends on the question.’

Josh chuckled. ‘You’re supposed to be a respectable doctor,’ he reminded him sternly, his voice suddenly muffled as he broke off to issue some instructions to someone who was passing,

Mac eyed his reflection. ‘I am a respectable doctor.’

Even if he didn’t look like one.

‘Well, just make sure you’re in to answer the door because it can’t be left on the doorstep.’ There was a yawn in his brother’s voice. ‘I’ll still be stuck here up to my armpits in broken bones and hacking coughs. I should have been a GP.’

‘Then you would have seen a hundred patients a day with nothing wrong with them. Are you serious about this?’ Mac shook his head in exasperation as he contemplated the possibilities. ‘You’ve seriously bought me a Christmas present?’

‘Yeah.’ His brother’s voice was a mocking drawl. ‘It’s the festive season, just in case you hadn’t noticed. And knowing you, I’m sure you hadn’t. To you, Christmas is just another day of work.’

‘Fortunately for my patients.’ Matt strolled through to his enormous living room. His enormous, empty living room. It was devoid of all evidence of Christmas. The long French windows faced the sea, providing him with a perfect view of wild surf, thrashed into a furious frenzy by winter winds and bitter cold. Most people preferred to sample the delights of the Cornish coast in the summer but he’d always preferred it in the winter. In the summer it belonged to the tourists, the hordes of visitors who arrived with buckets and spades and giggling children, covering the beach outside his back door. And then the weather cooled and they departed, leaving him to enjoy the best part of the year with other committed locals. To some it would have seemed stark and lonely but he loved the wildness. And he had no intention of adding tinsel just because it happened to be two weeks before Christmas. It was just something else to clear up.

‘In case you’ve forgotten, this isn’t exactly my favourite time of year.’ He stared out at the ocean, realising that it had been weeks since he’d even found time to windsurf. Maybe his brother was right. Maybe he was working too hard.

‘I know this isn’t your best time of year, Mac.’ His brother’s voice softened slightly. ‘But it’s been two years since Melissa died and Santa’s missed you. Get back on the horse, bro. It’s time.’

Time for what?

Mac’s fingers tightened on the phone. ‘I appreciate the thought.’ His voice was rough. ‘But I like my life the way it is.’

Busy.

‘All you do is work, but my present is going to change all that. I’ve got to go.’ Josh suddenly sounded harassed and Mac heard the sound of an ambulance siren and voices in the background. ‘What’s the matter with our department? The tourists have gone home and we’re still inundated in A and E. We need to do some accident prevention work around here. Stop people driving too fast on narrow Cornish roads when it’s icy.’

‘It keeps us busy.’ And he liked to be busy. Work was his life. Work was his saviour. ‘What’s happening about the nursing situation?’

‘All sorted. She starts on Monday.’

Mac frowned. ‘Who starts?’

‘The new A and E nurse. She’s a whiz. You’ll love her. And now I’ve got to go. Lives to save. Nurses to impress. Talk to you later. Merry Christmas.’ The phone went dead and Mac gave a sigh and replaced the handset.

He could just imagine what his brother was facing. They were so understaffed at the moment that the situation was becoming almost dangerous. As the consultant in charge of the department, he’d put his case to the hospital authorities on several occasions, but nothing had been done and the arguments were always the same. No more budget. And no staff willing to bury themselves in the depths of Cornwall, particularly in the winter.

Which meant that Christmas was going to be busy.

Exactly the way he liked it.

CHAPTER ONE

IT WAS her perfect house.

And there was no one home.

Louisa tried the doorbell again and cuddled her long wool coat around her to keep out the freezing wind. It had started snowing again and soft flakes settled on the ground and clung to her tumbling dark hair. She’d only stepped out of her car a few minutes before and already her fingers were freezing and she couldn’t feel her toes.

If she was going to spend Christmas here, she needed more clothes.

She gave a shiver and pressed the bell again, this time keeping her finger on it for much longer. Someone had to be there. Josh had assured her that his brother would be at home. That he was expecting her.

Giving up on the bell, she took a step backwards and looked at the huge white house. It was gorgeous. The sort of house she’d dreamed about as a child. The sort of house that should have been full of kids and dogs and laughter. She stared, wistfully. On the ground floor, huge glass windows faced out to sea across a wide deck, piled with drifted snow. A large, rambling garden stretched all the way down to the sand dunes, wild and neglected.

It was a house with a story to tell. And today there were no signs of life.

Remembering everything that Josh had told her about his brother and why he hated Christmas, Louisa stared anxiously at the house.

Just how much did Mac Sullivan hate Christmas?

Did he hate it enough to—to...?

She gazed up at the huge windows and bit her lip. Christmas was a bad time of year for lots of people, even without tragedy in their lives. What if he was lying in there, an empty bottle of tablets by the side of his bed? Maybe he’d left a note—

No.

She shook herself and wished her imagination wasn’t quite so lively. He was probably just watching TV or something. He probably couldn’t hear the doorbell.

Wishing she’d worn a thermal vest under her jumper, Louisa walked up to the window and peered inside, hoping to see signs of life.

She’d been told to arrive at lunchtime and this was lunchtime.

The living room was elegantly furnished with large white sofas set on a rich wooden floor, but the room had a formal feel that suggested that no one actually sat on the sofas. The cushions were plumped and smooth, like something prepared for a photographic shoot for an upmarket magazine.

It didn’t look lived in.

She frowned thoughtfully. A house like this was meant to be a home and this didn’t look like any home she’d ever imagined. Especially not at Christmas. A room like that should be filled with holly and presents and a massive tree.

Did Mac Sullivan have no one to buy presents for?

Had he shut everyone out since his wife had died?

Blowing on her fingers to warm them, Louisa gazed up at the upstairs windows but they were all firmly shut.

Worry started to gnaw at her brain again and she gave a shiver and mentally listed the options. She could stand still and wait for someone to turn up, but that could take for ever and would be of no help at all if he was really in trouble. Or she could give up on the whole idea and drive back to London, but that would mean being unemployed. And being on her own at Christmas. Not to mention letting Josh down when she’d promised she’d step in and help.

And, anyway, she couldn’t possibly leave before she knew that Mac was all right.

Which meant finding another way into the house so that she could check that he wasn’t lying in a heap somewhere.

Deciding that living in rural Cornwall meant being resourceful, she picked her way through the snow to the back of the house and immediately saw the open window.

Her eyes narrowed as she measured the space. Just large enough for her to wriggle through.

It had been a while since she’d used a window to gain access to a building but in this case it seemed like the only option. And she was expected so it could hardly be classed as breaking and entering, could it?

* * *

Mac heard the muffled thud the moment he switched off the shower. Someone was in the house.

He was being burgled.

Questioning the sense of tackling a burglar half-naked, he grabbed a towel from the heated rail and looped it round his hips before padding barefoot onto the landing to investigate.

There was another clatter and he winced. Whoever it was didn’t have a great future as a burglar.

Probably someone who knew he was a doctor and thought he might keep drugs on the premises. Some crazed addict looking for a fix?

His dark hair was wet from the shower and he raked it out of his eyes with an impatient hand before reaching for a hammer that he’d used a few days before to put up a shelf.

His dark eyes gleamed with anticipation and he walked softly downstairs, his feet leaving damp marks on the carpet. As he reached the bottom, he wondered whether it was better to take the man by surprise or make a din and warn him of his presence.

In the end he went for the surprise option. Growing up with a brother, he’d never been afraid of the physical. He was six feet two and he had a black belt in judo. He was pretty confident that he could take most people, even dressed only in a towel.

The noise came from the visitors’ toilet and Mac’s mouth tightened as he recalled the number of occasions he’d asked Nicola, the last and most determined of his housekeepers, to sort out a lock for that window. It hadn’t closed for months but it was one of the many things that she hadn’t managed to fix before she’d walked out on him. Once he’d made it clear that he wasn’t interested in a relationship it had appeared that she was no longer interested in working for him.

And his house was falling apart. He spent too long at the hospital to do more than the most basic maintenance and this house needed far more than basic.

And now he was paying the price.

Shifting his weight to prepare for a fight, Mac pushed open the door to the toilet and pounced, his weight taking the other person down hard. ‘Don’t move!’

There was a shocked gasp from beneath him. ‘How can I possibly move? You weigh a ton! And you’re soaking wet!’

Registering a distinctly feminine voice, Mac gave a grunt and shifted his weight slightly, his hands grasping hers firmly and holding them above her head. He didn’t intend to drop his guard just because his intruder was a woman.

He stared down into the widest, brownest eyes he’d ever seen and felt something stir inside him. She was soft and yielding under him and she smelt like a dream. Clouds of dark hair dusted with snow framed a perfect heart-shaped face and her soft cheeks were pink from the cold. And she was laughing.

‘OK, muscle man—are you going to lie on top of me all day?’ She sounded slightly breathless as she gazed up at him, her smile almost as wide as her face, ‘because I ought to warn you that you’re making it jolly hard for me to breathe.’

He rolled away from her, thinking that she looked nothing like a burglar.

She looked like something straight out of a bad boy’s dream.

Reminding himself that he wasn’t interested in becoming involved with a woman, especially one who had just wriggled through his toilet window, he frowned down at her.

‘What the hell are you doing, climbing through my window? You were looking for a doctor?’

‘Well, in a manner of speaking, I was looking for a doctor, yes.’ She struggled to sit upright, her long legs going in different directions like a foal who still hadn’t quite got the hang of standing. ‘But I’m not a patient. Or at least I wasn’t until you landed on top of me. Now I’m not so sure. I think there’s a distinct possibility that I’m injured. Possibly seriously. Were you planning to use that hammer on me?’

‘Only if you proved to be especially violent,’ Mac said dryly, placing the hammer on the window-seat and holding out a hand to help her up. Her skirt had ridden up almost to her bottom and he found his attention snagged by her legs. She had fabulous legs. ‘Do you always climb through windows when you’re looking for a doctor?’

‘Never before. But I was worried that you might be lying unconscious at the top of the stairs, unable to call for help. I thought you might need rescuing.’ She reached out and took his hand and he pulled her to her feet, surprised to find that she wasn’t as tall as he’d thought. Obviously most of her was leg.

He dragged his eyes away. ‘Why on earth would you think that?’

‘Because I rang the doorbell and no one answered.’

He lifted an eyebrow. ‘And that meant I was lying unconscious? You didn’t think I might be out buying a loaf of bread?’

‘I have a vivid imagination,’ she confided happily, her wide smile lighting up her whole face. Her eyes were the colour of rich coffee and a few freckles dusted her nose. ‘There didn’t appear to be a shop open in the village, so you couldn’t have been buying bread.’

‘So you thought you’d break in?’ He stared at her with incredulity. ‘Is that a frequent habit of yours?’

‘Only when essential. It’s part of my naturally interfering personality.’ She brushed herself down and shook the snow out of her hair. ‘I’m so relieved you’re all right. So, if you weren’t lying unconscious, why didn’t you answer the door?’

His eyes narrowed as he looked at her. ‘Because I was in the shower.’

‘At lunchtime?’

Mac sighed, wondering why he was explaining himself to this woman. ‘I was up all night in the unit. Motorbike accident. The roads are lethal at the moment. When I came in I spent ten minutes arguing with my brother and then got stuck into some paperwork before deciding to take a shower. Are there any more details of my life that you feel you need to know?’

She wrinkled her nose thoughtfully. ‘Probably, but they can wait until later. The most pressing thing is to dry myself off and get settled in. Where do I put my things?’

Deciding that he must be more tired than he’d thought, Mac stared at her blankly. ‘Put your things? What do you mean, put your things?’

She waved a hand towards the window. ‘I left my bags in the car but the boot leaks terribly so I really ought to bring them in before they get damp. It’s snowing again. But, of course, you know that because it’s all over me.’ As if to prove her point, she shook herself like a kitten and more snow drifted onto the floor. ‘Let’s look on the bright side. At least I didn’t fall head first down your toilet. That would have been an unhappy experience.’

Mac studied her in silence, an uneasy suspicion forming in his mind. ‘You haven’t told me what exactly you’re doing here...’

‘No, I haven’t, have I?’ She smiled warmly and held out a hand. ‘Your brother said I could come. I needed somewhere to stay and he told me you needed help. So here I am. Apparently I’m your Christmas present. Pleased to meet you, Dr Sullivan.’

* * *

Her new boss had a fantastic body and at the moment virtually every delicious inch of him was on display.

Louisa stood in the corner of the small room, trying not to focus on that broad chest or the well-defined muscles of his abdomen. If she’d needed the perfect illustration of the male anatomy then it was standing in front of her. His body was hard and tough with no soft edges. The body of a man used to strenuous physical activity.

And as for the rest of him…

With a huge effort of will she stared into his cold, handsome face and forced herself to breathe normally.

Josh had told her that the house was huge. He’d told her that the Cornish seaside fishing village was so small that you couldn’t sneeze without the entire population asking you about your cold the next morning.

What he’d failed to mention was the fact that his brother was drop-dead gorgeous.

And angry.

His eyes glittered dangerously and there was no trace of amusement in his hard features.

‘Is this some sort of joke?’ His voice was suddenly icy cold and he was looking at her with all the enthusiasm of a pathologist looking at a deadly virus. ‘How can you be my Christmas present?’

She tilted her head to one side. ‘Because your brother arranged it. I’m Louisa.’

He closed his eyes and muttered something under his breath. It sounded suspiciously like, ‘I’m going to kill him.’

Louisa stood for a moment, waiting patiently, and finally he opened his eyes and his gaze fixed on hers.

‘All right, this is what we’re going to do. We’re going to rescue your things from your car before they’re soaked, we’re going to get you dried off and then we’re going to sit down and talk about this. Because whatever you and my little brother have cooked up between you, it isn’t going to work for me. Once you’ve had a hot drink and dried off, I’m sending you on your way.’

Louisa looked at him. ‘Josh didn’t tell you I was coming?’

He ran a hand through his hair in a gesture of pure exasperation. ‘No. Well, yes, sort of. He told me he’d arranged my Christmas present. He just omitted to tell me what it was.’

Louisa covered her mouth with her hand and gurgled with laughter. ‘That’s so like Josh. He probably thought that if he told you in advance, you’d refuse to let me through the door.’

His black eyes were flint hard and as cold as the Arctic. ‘He would have been right.’

Oops.

She smiled placidly, refusing to let him intimidate her. ‘So it’s just as well I came through the window, then.’ She’d never met a man with more defences but she wasn’t put off by his lack of warmth. Josh had warned her that his older brother would try and keep her at a distance and she had no intention of being sent away until she’d helped. And she knew she could. ‘OK.’ She glanced down at herself with a rueful smile. ‘I’m dripping all over your floor. If you don’t want me to catch a cold, you’d better show me where I can get dried off and changed.’

He studied her for a moment and then let out a sigh of undisguised exasperation. ‘Upstairs, first on the right. There’s a guest bedroom and bathroom. Use it and then you can be on your way. In the meantime, I’ll get your things. Keys?’

He held out a hand and she looked at him blankly. ‘Oh...’ She smiled in sudden comprehension. ‘I never lock my car. It’s such a wreck no one in their right mind would ever want to steal it.’

She followed him into the hallway and stopped dead in the large hallway, her eyes fixed on the sweeping staircase. ‘A fairy-tale staircase. I’ve never actually seen one in real life, only in films. That’s amazing,’ she said huskily, her gaze wistful as she gazed upwards. ‘Just like the one in Gone with the Wind. You could sweep a woman off her feet and carry her up those stairs—’

‘Or she could walk,’ he said tightly, piercing her dream with a sardonic lift of a dark eyebrow. ‘I thought you were catching cold?’

Obviously not a romantic.

‘I am.’ She walked slowly up the stairs, trailing her hand lovingly up the oak banister. ‘The wood is beautiful.’

‘I restored it,’ Mac said irritably, and she peeped at him quizzically.

‘You know, you should probably get some sleep.’

‘Why would I want to do that?’

‘Because you look tired. You’re also very, very crabby and that’s always a sign of tiredness.’

His dark eyes burned into hers. ‘It’s also a sign that my brother has introduced a strange woman to my house when I don’t need one.’

‘Men are always hopeless at knowing what they need,’ Louisa said sagely, ‘but fortunately for them, women are here to help them work it out. Do you think you could rescue my bag from the boot before everything is soaked through?’

He was staring at her with an expression of stunned disbelief on his handsome face. ‘Your bag...’ His tone was almost faint. ‘I’ll get it.’ He seemed to shake himself. ‘And once you’ve dried off, you’re leaving. I’m not blaming you and it isn’t personal. I’m fully aware that none of this is your fault and I intend to take it up with my brother. Bedroom is second on the right.’

Ignoring the frost in his tone and the ice in his eyes, Louisa followed his instructions and pushed open the door. The place had been decorated like a traditional beach house. Floor-to-ceiling windows, scrubbed floorboards and a huge bed covered in white bedding and creamy throws. There were touches of blue, interesting pieces of driftwood and piles of shells stacked in pretty bowls. Even in the depths of winter the room seemed to feel summery and light. And she loved it. She gazed out of the window as Mac strode in with her bags.

‘You were right. They’re soaking wet. Put them near the radiator and they should dry off.’ He dumped them on the floor and frowned at her. ‘Is something wrong?’

Her eyes were still on the sea. ‘Oh, no, nothing’s wrong—’ She broke off and cleared her throat. ‘Everything is right. I just love it here.’

Her dream.

A house by the sea. A village where everyone knew each other. Surely in a place like this a person could belong.

‘Well, don’t get too settled. You won’t be staying.’ His frown deepened and there was a moment’s silence, as if he regretted his rudeness. ‘Most people hate the beach in the winter,’ he said gruffly. ‘They find it wild and lonely.’

Louisa thought of her early childhood spent in a cramped high-rise flat in the middle of a soulless city until Social Services had taken her away. ‘I suppose loneliness means different things to different people.’ She pulled herself together and turned to face him, a bright smile on her face. ‘I’ll take a shower and change, if that’s all right with you, and then we can meet downstairs so that you can tell me again that this is all a mistake and I can’t possibly stay.’

He paused for a moment, his dark eyes wary, and then he gave a reluctant laugh. ‘Why do I have a feeling you’re going to be difficult to shift?’

Without waiting for an answer, he left the room and Louisa stared after him thoughtfully. ‘Oh, I’m not going to be difficult to shift, Dr Mac Sullivan,’ she muttered thoughtfully. ‘I’m going to be impossible.’

He needed her.

She’d always been good at reading people. It was her special gift. And all her senses warned her that Mac Sullivan was a troubled man. She could feel the tension in him. Feel the way that he pushed people away. Shut himself off.

Josh was right about one thing, she mused as she unzipped her bag and pulled out a warm jumper. His brother was going to do everything in his power to get her to leave.

She cuddled the jumper and for a moment her eyes swung back to the sea. The winter wind whipped the waves into a foaming mass and the sky was grey and laden with the threat of more snow.

It was cruel and cold and unwelcoming.

So why did she feel she was finally home?